


Even The Stars

by Luna_Corvidae



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is a bit of a mess, First Kiss, Fluff, Introspection, M/M, Pining, Stargazing picnic!, Vaguely Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24974125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna_Corvidae/pseuds/Luna_Corvidae
Summary: Crowley’s never been particularly good at following rules, even the ones he makes up himself. He’s got a decade’s worth of late nights and a box of unsent letters to prove it.In which Crowley decides that after 6,000 years of pining, he wants more.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51





	Even The Stars

The picnic was Aziraphale’s idea. The stargazing was Crowley’s. Neither of them remembered about the meteor shower, but as he sits watching shooting stars trace their way across the sky, Crowley can’t say he minds. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Aziraphale says softly as he admires the sky above them. The moonlight illuminates the gentle details of his face: the curve of his lip, the brush of his eyelashes against his cheek. 

“Hm? Oh yes, beautiful.” Crowley manages to respond, momentarily distracted. There’s just such... _wonder_ in Aziraphale’s eyes as he gazes up at the stars. It amazes him, really, the way that even after all this time the angel still finds such beauty in the world. It’s doing strange things to his chest, actually, and he has to look away for a moment before he forgets how to breathe.

Crowley knows exactly what’s happening to him. Has known from the start, actually. He might be a demon, but he’s most certainly not an idiot. He’s not an angel, either, and so he can’t pretend to be above it all. (There goes one excuse.) And after saving the world together, it’s probably fair to say that the two of them aren’t mortal enemies anymore. (There goes another.) What’s more, Aziraphale has turned to look at him in a way that makes his heart want to do a jittery sort of tap dance. Dangerous, that soft smile. Dangerous, how it makes him want more. All this time, he’s kept himself satisfied with what he desperately thinks of as enough, a starving dog fed on scraps. 

_This is enough_ , he’d tell himself when Aziraphale smiled at him.

 _This is enough_ , when their hands would brush together ever so slightly.

 _Enough_ , when they’d laugh together over some shared joke.

 _Enough, enough, enough,_ through all the phone calls and late nights and lunch dates. Enough, and never dared to think of more. With all the odds (infernal and divine) stacked against them, he knew that to dream of more would be the worst kind of cruelty- self-imposed torture, really. 

And yet. 

Crowley’s never been particularly good at following rules, even the ones he makes up himself. He’s got a decade’s worth of late nights and a box of unsent letters to prove it. And now…the more he thinks about it, the more his list of well-worn, tried-and-true excuses is beginning to look thin. 

“Crowley? Is everything all right?” Aziraphale’s voice snaps him back to reality, and he blinks.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just… thinking.” Which is why he fell in the first place, actually. And now, he thinks, he’s close to falling again, in a different sort of way and in a dangerous sort of direction. He looks up at Aziraphale’s face, gentle and concerned, and something inside of him snaps and all he can think is: _More, I want more._ In a moment of sudden clarity he realizes that right now, not even the stars themselves would be enough for him. Newly bold and feeling half-drunk on starlight, he reaches out and takes both of the angel’s hands in his. Aziraphale’s mouth opens slightly in a silent ‘oh’ before curving into a gentle smile. When he looks at Crowley, he’s struck with the realization that this is all he’s ever wanted, really. 

“Did you know,” Aziraphale says quietly, “that in over a thousand years, I’ve never felt more sheer love than I do when I’m with you?” Crowley’s frantically racing thoughts ( _he could sense that the whole time!?_ ) grind to a screeching halt when Aziraphale leans forward, their lips a breath away from meeting. Crowley can practically feel the tension shivering in the air. As stars plummet through the sky all around them, he closes the distance, and when they kiss it’s every dream he’s ever had all at once. Aziraphale kisses him softly, slowly, like he’s savoring every second of it. 

And for a moment, they’re not an angel and a demon on opposite sides of a cosmic war. They’re just two people in love, underneath the gently falling stars.


End file.
